Experiments
by goNxH
Summary: "You didn't sleep with her then?" Sherlock blinks in surprise, "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous, Molly."
1. Experiments

**So I had two ideas for One-Shots in my head and now I'm posting both of them. That way I don't have to chose.**

**I don't own Sherlock (BBC).**

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><p><strong>-1st-<strong>

She can't believe it. Cannot understand how this could possibly have happend but still here she is. In Sherlock's bed.

…

The weeks after the Moriarty Video are chaotic.

Molly cleans up the broken cup from the floor. She has dropped it from shock at seeing her ex-… her ex-something. Then she breathes in deeply to calm her racing heart and it's only then that she feels ready to continue her work. She refuses to let the fear rule her life, she would end her usual shift and take the tube home, there she would treat herself to a hot steamy bath before retiring to bed and snuggling with her cat Toby.

And if she buys herself an alarm system on the way home or a new pepper spray there was no one to judge her. She wonders if Sherlock has seen the video already. She hadn't heard a word from him in more than two months.

She can't pretend that it doesn't hurt, but maybe it was for the best. No one even thought about calling her the night Sherlock got shot. She only heard about it after he was out of danger and apparently no one thought it necessary to inform her of Sherlock's romantic relationship – and the fact that he is engaged. Or rather was engaged if the gossip rags are to be trusted.

She doesn't count… not to Sherlock and apparently everyone he was indeed close to seems to be aware of that.

It isn't even that she's still hoping and holding out for Sherlock to fall in love with her. She has lost that hope long ago (only it was so much easier when she was still able to tell herself it was because of his unclear – but certainly not heterosexual – sexual orientation). It is just that she had thought they were something akin to friends, but apparently they was only her misguided thinking.

Despite her macabre job and her nervous demeanour (only when Sherlock was involved) Molly has a small but close circle of friends. Even Tom and she are still on friendly terms.

But Sherlock and Molly? In his book they weren't friends, and it is alright that way (she just wished he had informed her). At least now she knows all he sees her as is a tool, a way into the morgue and to get a hand on body parts – and they were never hers, mind you.

Molly has enough. She's done with Sherlock Holmes.

There's a knock on the door and Molly looks up in confusion, barely anyone bothers to knock.

"Come in."

"Hello Molly! I'm not disturbing you am I?"

"Of course not, Mike" Molly's smiles friendly. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to check and see how you're holding up. The video was a real shock, huh?"

Touched Molly's eyes softened as she looked at him, "Thanks Mike. It was quite a shocker but everything is fine."

Mike nodded thoughtfully. "How is your research going by the way? I've heard you hit a wall."

Molly sighs, "That's a bit much, but we've had difficulties extricating…" she browses through her papers to find her research papers and for the next half hour Mike and her discuss new approaches for the problem.

The door to the lab slams open and the two look up surprised.

"Sherlock!" Mike blinks. "Well, I haven't seen you around in forever. What brings you to Bart's?"

Next to him Molly tenses at seeing Sherlock. Two months without a sign of life from him and there he is, strolling into HER lab like he owns the place. And he probably already has some ludicrous demand on his tongue.

"Mike" he seems surprised "Molly" he nods at the two of them. "Molly, I… How are you?"

Both her eyebrows shoot up and then she rubs her eyes tiredly "Sherlock just say what you want."

"I…" he seems very much taken aback. "Haven't you seen the video?" Sherlock is truly confused at her reaction; he had deduced that Molly had seen the video.

"Yes, I've seen the video. But what do you want?"

"I…" his eyes blink rapidly. He had expected to meet an anxious Molly, maybe even a fearful one. And – even though he would never admit it - he had also expected her to greet him as a hero with billowing coat and not as some kind of annoyance.

Sherlock clears his throat "Well Molly, obviously we are faced with a situation caused by an unknown source. And I do believe it for the best that you stay with me and Baker Street until I solved this…"

Molly bursts out laughing and Mike shifts from one foot to another nervously. He'd like to leave the room only Sherlock is blocking the door.

"Yeah… Sherlock no I don't think this will happen. Why ever would I move in with you?"

Sherlock raises both eyebrows and shot her this look – this one look Molly hates – the one that tells her exactly what Sherlock thinks of her intellectual abilities.

He sighs deeply, "If you force me to state the obvious I shall do so. Someone has broadcasted a video of Moriarty on all channels and while I'm sure it isn't 'Jim' – because he's dead, obviously – I currently don't know who has done it. And until I know more about this we'll have to assume that whoever did it is somehow connected to Moriarty and that everyone that I'm acquainted with may be in danger."

"Oh, I see. So then I suppose it'll be quite crowded in Baker Street already. You know with John and Mary, Janine of course and Greg and…"

"Greg?"

"Sherlock" Molly warns. "I will not move to Baker Street. Not even for a few days. Just solve this. I really don't see why this should concern me."

"Please Molly, do not make this more complicated and quit your stubbornness. Of course John and Mary won't be moving in. Mycroft is monitoring their flat and besides both of them know how to handle a gun. As does Lestrade, he is a Police Officer after all. Also he's being monitored by Mycroft."

"Why can't he monitor my flat as well?"

Frustrated Sherlock muses up his hair "Well, your case is different. You're not versed using a gun. And besides…"

"Besides what, Sherlock?" Molly sighs.

"You have played a vital part in bringing Moriarty down! I was only able to do it because of you! If this is one of his men they'll…"

"What about Janine?"

"Janine? Who is…? Oh! What about her?"

Molly's glare is less than amused, "You and her were engaged! You were in a romantic relationship with her. Don't you think she might be a possible target, obviously?" She mimics Sherlock.

Sherlock just stares. The thought never occurred to him, "Of course not. Don't be stupid. She's not important. She doesn't matter! You do!"

"Not imp…?" Molly stares at him in shock. How can he talk like that about the woman he was willing to marry? And then – suddenly – she understands. It was a case! Janine was a case – or at least somehow involved in one. _Bloody bastard, _she thinks and she is so unbelievable angry. How dare he play with a woman's feelings like that?

"No!"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock feels the burning headache coming.

"No, I will most certainly not be moving to 221b Baker Street" she states evenly.

"Well, now this is quite unfortunate, since your belongings – including that ludicrous and entirely too bothersome cat of yours – have been moved to Baker Street already," he takes a key out of his coat pocket and puts it on the table in front of him. "I'll be seeing you at Baker Street then. Oh, and the man outside the lab is your bodyguard so no reason to worry."

Molly stares after him being left speechless until the door slams shut and she is yanked from her stupor.

…

Molly gives in in the end. She doesn't know why she keeps doing so, but she doesn't have the nerve to fight anymore with Sherlock. So she moves in John's old room and tries her best to avoid Sherlock.

… Only it turns out that avoiding him doesn't work as good as Molly initially thought. If one considers that she is currently in his bed – naked. And by no means alone, no instead she is in Sherlock's bed – naked - with Mr. I-am-married-to-my-work himself.

Slowly and carefully Molly opens her eyes and she almost gets a heart-attack. Sherlock's laying sideways with his head propped up in one hand and he's watching her.

"Shit… Sherlock!" Molly grabs for her heart. She turns red when it occurs to her that he has been watching her sleep.

Then a thought occurs to her and her heart stops. What if this is some kind of experiment? It is possible with Sherlock. And the odd look Sherlock was giving her wasn't exactly reassuring her to have confidence.

He jumps up from the bed, "I… I need to… Yes! I need to leave!"

"What?" Molly sits up confused.

"I have to…" he searches for words, ruffles his curls and his hands are always moving nervously. He mumbles something about evidence and reference and before Molly is able to form a coherent sentence, he's out the door.

…

A week passes with not so much as a word or any other sign of life from Sherlock. Molly packed her things and left Baker Street with her guard in tow (a different one from the first, only hell knows where he's gone to). Toby and she are quite comfortable in their old place and Molly still doesn't know what made Sherlock flea, but it has to be what happened between them.

She tries to get over it – really and truly tries, but it is so much harder now, that she knows there could be something between them. It hurts deeply. And it isn't like she expected a proposal; but she never expected he'd go in exile.

By now the red has almost disappeared from her eyes. It is replaced with dark circles. Despite the sleep deprivation Molly manages to haul herself from bed. She's only been functioning on coffee for the past week.

The doorbell rings loudly and Molly cringes at the sound. It's five in the morning and really who would think about ringing the doorbell at that time of night? Sherlock, comes to mind, but considering the last week, Molly doesn't particularly entertains the , Sherlock doesn't use the doorbell. He had himself a key made years ago because "really breaking in all the time is such a hassle, Molly".

She answers the door without asking who is outside (guard-bloke is still outside). Then she freezes.

"You weren't at Baker Street," it is simply a statement but Molly is left speechless and she barely manages a nod.

"Well, we'll have to change that back again."

"Sherlock… what…?" She wants to ask what he's talking about, what he actually wants from her, where he's been and she wants to yell and curse him and she wants to get rid of him and never see him again. Only she doesn't have the opportunity to do any of the above.

Sherlock grabs her and crushes her to him. His hands are in her hair and he's snogging her senseless. Molly answers with equal passion to the intense kiss. Her body is smothered between the wall and his hard lean body and she forms the first coherent thought only after his lips leave hers to trail down her throat.

With all the might she can muster she pushes him off of her. "Sherlock! What the fuck? You can't go around shagging me and then disappear only to turn up a week later to – to- to just kiss me like that! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Sherlock reluctantly allows her some space, "Ah, yes of course. I can see how this might be somewhat confusing for you, Molly. But I have reached the conclusion that I am in love with you."

Molly laughs hysterically (because this can't be happening for real), "And how precisely did you come to such a 'conclusion'?"

"I had intercourse with Irene Adler."

He just states it as if it was the most normal thing in the world but to Molly it feels like a punch in the face. It takes her a minute to connect the name to the famous Dominatrix Sherlock was infatuated with.

He's about to say something more, but Molly doesn't let him (she won't allow him to manipulate her).

"So let me get this straight," she hates how high her voice sounds and how it is cracking. "You sleep with me and then you disappear right after, in order to sleep with a world-renowned Dominatrix – of which I thought she was dead – only to come back to me to tell me you're in love with me?"

Sherlock nods but he seems to understand that something is gravely wrong, "Yes, however Molly, I'm afraid you do not comprehend…"

"Get out!" her voice is dangerously low.

"Molly?" She might be hearing things, but she could almost swear she hears a pleading note in his voice.

"Get out!" her voice gets louder. "Get out, get out, get out!" She's yelling by now and keeps pushing him out the door. "I never want to see you again, Sherlock Holmes!"

The door slams shut.

…

"Alright… explain to me again what exactly the problem is."

Molly rolls her eyes. The 'problem' is obvious and she really thinks her friend should be on her side with this this one.

"The problem should be fairly obvious!"

"Not for me it isn't. Now, don't get me wrong or anything, if you and he were dating then he would have cheated and in consequence you would have every right to be angry and leave his sorry arse. But unless I misunderstood you, the two of your were in no relationship."

"So what, Cassie? He slept with me and the very next day he goes off to shag Irene Adler, who is god knows where and he probably had to go to great lengths to even find her!"

"Exactly! That's the whole bloody point," Cassie yells into the mobile. "He sleeps with a very famous dominatrix who – let's be honest here – is probably really and I mean really very** very** good doing the horizontal tango. And then he comes back to you because he'd rather shag you than her. My point is that the compliment couldn't have been bigger!"

"That…" Molly is rendered speechless. She never thought of it that way. It was a crazy way of thinking, but… Then again Sherlock had some peculiar ideas.

"Look Molly," Cassie sighs. "All I'm saying is that maybe you should let him explain himself before condemning him."

Molly groans, "I hate you."

Cassie laughs at the other side of the line, "Love you too, Molls."

Molly hangs up and grabs for her jacket. She can hardly believe it, but she will indeed give him a chance to explain.

The bodyguard by her doorstep (he absolutely refuses to come inside or tell her his name) looks to her, "Baker Street?"

And Molly wonders what it says about her that she is that transparent for a stranger. He can probably see her hopeless infatuation with Sherlock Holmes miles away.

…

"Ah, Molly!"

Sherlock is less surprised by her visit, than Molly would have liked. He probably already figured she'd give in sooner or later, or her bodyguard had informed him or he had deduced it were her footsteps on the stairs.

She crosses her arms in front of her chest to prevent him from coming closer and to show her (inner) resistance. Sherlock has been about to step closer to her, but stops.

"Sherlock," she greets coldly.

The silence between them extends uncomfortably.

"Ah! Right! Tea? Would you like a cuppa?"

"No."

Sherlock sighs, "Molly…"

"Leave it be, Sherlock. Your manipulation and compliments all those stupid games you play, just don't! Just tell me." She takes a breath. "Why? Why did you do that? What did our… what does it mean to you – whatever it was that happened between us?"

"Would you like to sit?" Sherlock offers.

"I prefer to stay" _so I can get out faster if I have to._

"Suit yourself," Sherlock flops down into his chair and folds his hands beneath his chin. "My experiences with sex – and opposing to common opinion, it does not make me uncomfortably to talk about the topic –…" he huffs indignantly, "… are very much limited to my university days. Which was also the sad peak of my drug use and addiction; therefore these two factors were always coupled with one another. Sex – unlike drugs- was… not very satisfying therefore I gave it up consequently. Until last week that was. Until you."

Molly shifts from one foot to another.

"It was… more than satisfactory I assure you."

Molly feels the blush heating up her face, but she daresay it was more than satisfactory by far!

"Now, of course I found myself confronted with a question – or rather a problem. There was no way to be sure whether the much more agreeable effect of intercourse stemmed from my abstinence from drugs or from the fact that it was with you. To eliminate the first possibility I had two experimental approaches to choose from. Either I had sex with another woman while sober or I had sex with you while under the influence of drugs. While the second approach was more attractive to me for multiple reasons, I did not believe the same could be said for you. Considering former – rather painful – experiences I cannot say that drugs are well received by you. Therefore I had no choice but to entertain the first approach."

Sherlock gets up and starts pacing the room, "Irene Adler was the obvious choice. She was attracted to me and her broad experiences on the sexual field were not accessible to me with any other woman. "

Molly tries to process it, she's really more confused than angry by now "Alright fine, but how on earth did you draw the conclusion that you're in love with me?"

"Ah, yes! That was really just a logical deduction from all the relevant factors. While sex with Irene Adler had - physically speaking - the desired effect, it was still somewhat… unsatisfactory, lacking even."

Molly can't quite supress the small smug smile that lifts her lips – take that sexy and famous and beautiful Dominatrix. Molly Hooper, mouse of the morgue is better in bed than you!

Sherlock however isn't finished yet, "Now, when one considers the fact that Irene Adler fulfils all physical features that dominate society's perception of beauty and that her list of costumers is rather impressive, one can only conclude that objectively speaking sex with Irene Adler should have been a superior experience to sex with you."

Now, that one stings a little, Molly's face drops. But she still has 'unsatisfactory and lacking' to comfort her.

"Therefore, clearly I was not objective. And then there were other factors that I had to consider. For instance how you keep hogging my mind palace! You're just wandering around there unrestrained and even if I put you back into your designated room you keep coming back. It's really driving me quite insane, so if you could kindly stop that."

Molly ignores the ridiculous request and concentrates on the important part "I have a room in your mind palace?" Molly supresses a grin and it becomes a lopsided smirk.

"Of course," Sherlock waves it off like it is the most normal thing in the world (it most certainly is not for Molly).

"But that's not all of it! I wanted to keep you in Baker Street despite there no longer being a reason!"

"Wait a second," Molly interrupts. "What do you mean there was no longer a reason?"

Annoyed he goes over the explanation, "I found out who was behind the Moriarty Video."

… "Sherlock? Who was it?"

"My brother. Obviously."

"Mycroft?"

"YES! For some stupid reason – probably sentiment – he broadcasted that video. But it isn't of relevance. The point is that I kept it to myself," he ruffles his hair in frustration.

Willing her to understand what he is saying. How come she always understands him, but not now? Not when it matters!

"I didn't want you to move out of Baker Street. I grew… accustomed to your presence, I found myself… liking it. You cooked and we experimented. Basically you beat Billy, the Skull by far."

So… she wins against a skull. Sherlock really needs to learn the art of complimenting a woman, but Molly finds herself flustered still.

"How long?"

"How long what?" Sherlock asks rapidly.

"How long have you known it was Mycroft?"

"Oh – about two weeks after you've moved in."

Molly's jaw falls down, "But… but what about my guard out there?"

"Frank from my homeless network," Sherlock explains dismissingly.

Molly has to laugh, she really cannot supress it. Her shoulders shake. Really this perfect ridiculous man was going to be the end of her.

He looks confused and maybe even a bit insulted. "You're laughing? Why are you laughing? Stop laughing, Molly," he commands.

She bits her lip to stop the pearly chain of giggles. "Can I presume that your 'experimental phase' is over, or would you like to support your finding with more evidence?"

Sherlock snorts "Don't be ridiculous. One bothersome sexual experience with another woman is surely sufficient enough."

He stands in front of her now, "You're going to forgive me."

"Deduced that then, haven't you?"

He smirks.

"But… only on one condiditon. Can I assume we are now in an exclusive relationship?"

His smirk broadens, "Absolutely. But don't tell John, I want to see how long it takes him to figure it out on his own."

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><p><strong>That was number one.<strong>

**Tell me what you think!**


	2. Of when to remember and when to forget

**As I said before I had two similar ideas and didn't know with which one to go.**

**Here is the second idea.**

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews on the first story! I loved it :)**

**I don't own Sherlock.**

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><p><strong>Of when to remember and when to forget<strong>

"Sherlock I can't let you take it home" Molly insists and she's going to lose her last nerve if this man doesn't stop his ludicrous demands.

"But Molly," Sherlock whines. "It's vital for the case."

"There is no way I can let you take a whole body home!" Molly explains with a sigh.

"Molly!" Sherlock ruffles his hair in exasperation. Then he sniffs the air around her, "Are you wearing a new perfume?"

Her eyes narrow, "You can forget that right now! You can go flatter me all you want; I will not let you take the whole cadaver."

"Molly, be reasonable," now Sherlock is annoyed. "This is an official case from Scotland Yard! I'm sure they'd appreciate me solving the case as soon as possible."

"Well and I'd appreciate keeping my job, thank you very much. And we cannot fulfil both wishes at the same time now, can we?" Molly tells him. "The body stays."

John watches the argument with an expression one would have, when watching a tennis-match. He holds up both hands when Sherlock turns to him and asks him, to 'please tell Molly, she's being ridiculous'. "Hey I'm just standing here. Personally I think Molly is absolutely right. Mrs. Hudson would have a heart attack, if you dragged a body through her hallway."

Sherlock grumbles about traitors and absurd rules and leaves the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Molly cringes at the sound, "And the day started out so well."

John bids his goodbye, explaining he should go after the 'giant baby' and grumbles that it 'isn't that I don't already have one of those at home'. He barely left the morgue when Sherlock comes back in from the other door.

"I brought you coffee!" he exclaims proudly and offers it to Molly with hopeful eyes.

Molly shakes her head in a somewhat desperate exasperation, "Bribing me won't get you the body, Sherlock."

"Molly, you have to consider that you'll be there the whole time. The body will stay in our apartment after all. Theref…"

She groans deeply. He just won't leave it alone, "Sherlock, I love you, but there is no possible scenario in which you leave this morgue with Mr. Beck. However I may be able – if I use all my charm and call in all my favours– to get you a human heart."

Sherlock throws up his arms theatrically, "Fine! But you know, that this means I won't come home tonight. You won't give me the body, so I'll be busy solving this case the whole night shadowing our suspect."

She rolls her eyes, "You want the heart or not?"

He's still pouting, but the prospect of a heart did spark his interest. Molly pecks him on the lips and goes back to work.

…

Molly drags the cooler upstairs. When Sherlock gets home in the morning and after he sleeps like the dead, he'll be happy to experiment on the human heart and maybe she'll have a quiet afternoon at work. What he'll do with the heart? Molly really doesn't care all that much.

She puts it in the fridge labelled as 'his' (because it wasn't for food it was for Sherlock' body parts -well not HIS body part - and other experiments) – just like he had 'his' microwave and his 'cutlery'. She's utterly exhausted after her long shift and wants nothing more than to drop into bed. On the door she pauses, there's this bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Molly takes out her pepper spray from the purse and pushes the door open.

There's no one inside and nothing seems out of the ordinary. Still Molly didn't feel safe. She goes backin to the kitchen and her eyes take in the living room. She startles when she hears a sultry voice behind her.

"Sherlock, you've been letting me wait for very long. You should know better than to let a woman wait. I thought we may pick up where we left off in Karachi."

Molly twists around with her heart beating in her throat. She finds herself face to face with an unknown woman standing in the now open bathroom door. It takes Molly a whole minute to connect the dots between the beautiful woman standing in her bathroom door wearing nothing but Sherlock's robe combined with red lipstick and the body from the Christmas so long ago.

Irene Adler.

"Oh," the dominatrix takes the other woman in with surprise. Then a predatory smile spreads over her lips, "And who might you be?"

Molly opens her mouth, forces the words out, but nothing happens, she stays silent. What should she say? That Sherlock and her are together? This woman will laugh at her.

"I…"

"Adorable," Irene Adler steps over every personal boundary, gets in her face and Molly takes a step back involuntarily. "Don't worry little mouse. I won't eat you… I only bite."

Irene Adler musters her from top to bottom(she wears comfortable shoes, not made for looks) and Molly cannot help but feel lacking compared to this beautiful woman. Every single snide comment Sherlock every made about her (she thought she was over it) washes over Molly.

"Sherlock isn't here." Drawls Irene Adler matter of factly. "And maybe it would be better, you'd be gone by the time he arrives. We'll be rather… busy."

Molly feels it like a punch. This is her apartment as much as it is Sherlock's, but it's her that feels like an intruder. She wishes she had the confidence to tell Irene Adler off, that she'd be brass and bold but she isn't. At least not right now. Her mouth is dry and her head is empty.

…

It's early morning already when Sherlock steps in 221b Baker Street. Despite Molly's uncooperativeness he solved the case and is in high spirits (an eight after all), therefore Sherlock graciously decides he may forgive her and can crawl in bed with her. At least for a few more hours until she absolutely must leave for work (or – if it's up to him - and he can be very persuasive - she'll call in sick today).

A look in the fridge confirms that Molly kept her promise (as indicated by the cooler) – it's a perfect human heart and Sherlock is very much looking forward to experimenting with it.

And suddenly it grips him – the realisation that something is wrong. The blood pumps in his ears and he finds his hands are shaking. Someone is in their apartment and this someone is not Molly (he needs to focus – he can't focus, because it's Molly, but he needs to - worry and fear for her well-being will not help her – he cannot let himself think of 'what if's'). His thoughts race and it doesn't take him long to connect the dots (really, he should have realise the second he stepped into 221b, but thinking of Molly in his bed has repeatedly proven to be too much of a distraction).

"Woman!" Sherlock snatches the mobile from his pocket and rips open the door leading to the bedroom. He snarls when he indeed finds Irene Adler sprawled out in his and Molly's bed.

"Sherlock! It's not nice to leave a lady waiting so long. I think I may have to punish you, until you beg for mercy," Irene Adler sits up and shrugs the (his!) robe off her shoulders before she walked over lasciviously.

"I've told you before Miss Adler. I do not beg!" Sherlock replies sharply.

"Why so formal, Sherlock? Here I though we're past that – after Karachi."

"Miss Adler, I'd advise you to leave this apartment and to never contact me again. I'd also recommend you do so very fast, my brother most likely already sent several agents on the way. He does have some questions– and he does not like not knowing the answers. Believe me when I say he's even worse than me in said regard."

Her eyes widen and she takes a step back. He wouldn't have – couldn't have…

Without wasting another moment or another word, Sherlock turns around and leaves. He needs to find Molly.

…

He finds her where he very much thought her to be – the morgue. Her eyes are bloodshot and red from crying and Sherlock feels cold anger and a certain sense of satisfaction at the message from his brother, informing him of the successful capture of Irene Adler.

"Molly?"

Her answer is a quiet sniffle and Sherlock kneels down in front of the chair she's sitting in. She didn't sleep and her gaze glares a hole in the floor, she's refusing to even look at him.

"Molly I promise you, I did not know Irene Adler was waiting in our apartment. Mycroft took care of her, she won't bother us ever again. Whatever she told you, was not the truth."

"You didn't sleep with her then?"

Sherlock blinks in surprise, "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous, Molly."

Well – now she feels silly. Her insecurity overpowered her and she overreacted. Molly keeps her eyes on the floor (more of shame now, than of fear of seeing Sherlock telling her, he did indeed fall for Irene Adler once) and her fingers are clutched between her thighs. So tightly that her nails leave marks on her pale skin. Sherlock pries her fingers apart and takes them in between his large ones.

"Molly, I assure you, that there is nothing between Irene Adler and me."

She nods and allows him to pull her up and into his arms.

"What exactly happened then? Between you and her, I mean. She talked about Karachi and I… I thought she was dead, actually," her self-consciousness does not disappear as fast as she would like.

Sherlock sighs, "Molly…"

"No, Sherlock! I want to know what it was that happened between the two of you."

So Sherlock gives in, he pulls up a chair and gestures for Molly to take a seat as well. And so he starts telling her about "A scandal in Belgravia" and Irene Adler, every detail including his fascination – and it was only fascination, he assures Molly – of Irene Adler. Finally it comes to Karachi.

"You want to tell me, that you flew over half the world, to save her and that there was nothing going on between you?" Molly looks at him with a look of utter disbelief on her face. "You didn't shag her?"

His head snaps to her and his mouth falls open in confusion, "Oh – well, no. We did have intercourse."

Cold anger grips her and she shoots up from the chair, "You just told me you didn't sleep with her!"

She knows it was before their time, long before they got together. Sherlock had every right to do whatever he wanted, he could do whatever he wanted to do, because it was years ago. It was just that Irene Adler, the woman she met in 221b Baker Street was beautiful, intelligent and elegant and sophisticated and Molly… Molly didn't think she was any of those things. How could she compete to that? Why was Sherlock with her, if he could be with Irene Adler?

"I did not sleep with her," interjects Sherlock in protest.

"You just admitted that you and her shagged!" Molly argues back.

"But I did not sleep with her!" Sherlock insists. "I do not trust Irene Adler. I would never let my guard down for a second with her in the same room; much less close my eyes and sleep!"

The logic is so bogus that for a second Molly is too stunned to form words, but her anger is still very much present.

"How was it?" she asked with gritted teeth.

"What?"

"How was it? How was sex with Irene Adler? Was it better than with me?" she challenges him (she doesn't want to hear the answer to that question, is terrified of it actually, but it slipped past her lips).

Sherlock looks at her contemplating and honestly thoughtful, "I don't know."

Anger boils under her skin, "Do you think this is a joke?"

"Of course not! I cannot answer either of those questions because I don't know," he repeats.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" her voice is shaking, cracking with anger.

"I've deleted it! The information was irrelevant, therefore I deleted it!" he says it, like it was obvious, like everyone would go around deleting sex with Irene Adler because it was taking up space in their mind.

"You deleted sex with Irene Adler?" Molly asks and all the fight is gone from her voice, she's just so tired now.

Sherlock simply nods, "I kept little information, but considering Mycroft took care of Adler I think I can delete those as well. But most I've deleted immediately on the flight back to London."

Molly falls back on her chair emotionally spent. She can hardly comprehend it, Sherlock deleted sex with Irene Adler. That is sex with a world renowned dominatrix with more clients than Molly's post-mortem-list. If he deleted sex that was probably the best he ever had (considering Irene Adler's profession) what did that mean for their sex life? Had he deleted sex with her as well?

She mumbles the question quietly in her beard.

"Molly, please do speak up," Sherlock scolds annoyed.

"D-did you delete – delete our sex life?" her voice is small and insecure. Sherlock does not like it one bit.

He huffs, "Please Molly, don't be daft. Why ever would I do that? Information regarding you are in no way irrelevant. Quite the opposite I daresay, not only are they relevant but they are also very remarkable."

Molly doesn't quite manage to keep the tiny satisfied smirk of her face and it comes out as something of a quick quirk of her lips.

"Can we go home now, please? I haven't slept a wink in days," Sherlock asks impatiently and offers her his hand.

Molly takes it and pulls him softly over to her, "I'm sorry, I reacted the way I did. I should have let you explain. Irene Adler and you happened in your past, I had no right to judge you for that."

She gets on her tip-toes and presses a peck on his lips.

He stops her from moving away and crowds her against the desk. "You know, suddenly I'm not so tired anymore," he growls against her mouth.

* * *

><p><strong>So? Which one did you like better?<strong>

**Tell me what you think!**


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